


puzzle

by professortennant



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen RPF, Chef RPF
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Walk-in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: There's a lot of puzzle solving going on in the BA Test Kitchen. The wooden topple toy is one of them, but what Claire isn't expecting is for the reality of her relationship with one of her best friends to be unlocked.(Or, Brad has a weird moment of insight which leads to Christina and Claire making out.)
Relationships: Claire Saffitz/Christina Chaey
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	puzzle

**Author's Note:**

> this is a birthday gift for the amazing laila! thank you for everything you do for this fandom and thank you for being my friend! i can't believe it's only been a few months but you're a highlight of my 2019 and i'm delighted to have written this for your birthday to celebrate your awesomeness. i hope this opens a flood (or as close to a flood as this tiny fandom can manage) for some femslash content.

The knowledge that she has been—apparently—dating Christina Chaey for the last six months comes from Brad, of all people. Claire’s hands are forming small, sweet dough balls when Brad sidles over to her, slides his forearms over her workstation, and sighs. 

“Claire, you have _got_ to get your girlfriend out of the walk-in, like, now. Gaby’s got an order she’s gotta receive and Chaey won’t freakin’ stop hoppin’ in there to practice that stupid fuckin’ balance tower thing. So, can you go, y’know, use your girlfriend powers or whatever on her?”

Claire stares at him, mouth agape, normally delicate hands squashing the squishy, puffy ball of dough between her hands. She heard the words: Christina, walk-in, balance toy, _girlfriend._ It was _girlfriend_ that was tripping her up.

“Uh, _hello?_ Earth to Claire?”

“Yeah, no, sorry,” she said shaking her head, brain still processing the word in application to Christina. “What did you just call Christina?”

Brad frowned at her, brow furrowed. “What? Girlfriend? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, Claire, she’s bein’ more like a menace with that thing.”

Trying to keep her voice collected and nonchalant, Claire began to carefully reform the dough balls in her hand, eyes focused on the way the pliant dough did what her hands told it to do. “And, um, why do you think Christina’s my girlfriend?”

This time Brad rolled his eyes at her, like he couldn’t believe _he_ was explaining this to _her. “_ Uh, because you’ve been goin’ out together for the last six months? I seen your photos and your videos and your cutesy little Instagram comments and, please, Claire,” he eyed her, grinning lasciviously, teasingly. “I seen the way she’s started draping herself all over ya in the kitchen. Way to go, Saffitz. Breakin’ all the HR rules!” He looked suddenly unsure of himself. “Wait, shit, was it supposed to be a secret? ‘Cause, I gotta tell you, Claire, if you guys are tryin’ to keep itthat way, you fuckin’ suck at it. Chaey ‘specially can’t stop starin’ at your ass every five seconds.”

Claire’s mind went into overdrive as she stared at her friend, listening to the allegations and accusations against her. He thought Christina was her _girlfriend._ He thought they were together, that they weren’t hiding it, and that Christina checked out her ass. The thought of Christina’s eyes on her body made her cheeks flush and her heart pick up speed. 

When she and Christina had begun hanging out outside of work, she had thought that maybe—just maybe—there was something more to it than friendship. She’d been drawn to Christina’s steady, calming energy in a way that she couldn’t explain. It seemed that whenever she was with her, everything that seemed so hectic, so important, just faded away into the background. For the first time in a long time, she felt that she could be herself around Christina, could allow herself to be silly, to let her guard down.

She blushed at how obvious her crush must be if even _Brad_ could see it. There had been moments when she’d fallen asleep on Christina’s shoulder after a movie night in her apartment, somehow so sure that Christina would take care of her, wouldn’t let her embarrass herself or make fun of her _too_ badly for drooling on her. There had been moments when she’d sat in the freezing cold New York temperatures cheering Christina on during a cycling race, waving a sign dotted with painstakingly punched out hearts and paper bikes, only to wait for her at the finish line, red-faced and breathless with open arms as Christina stumbled into her and clung to her for warmth, shivering but so, so proud for having completed the race. 

It had taken everything in her then to not press a soft kiss to her cheek just to know what the combination of her sweat and the New York cold tasted like on her skin. 

To Brad’s credit, Claire _had_ thought something had shifted between them. Christina had grown in confidence in the test kitchen the longer she stayed, the more comfortable she got in front of the camera. It just so happened that she felt most comfortable alongside Claire: teasing her about Twix chocolate commercials, praising Claire’s attempts when Brad offered nothing but criticism, and—the moment that had kept her up for hours that night—draping herself over her body completely, arms bracketed around her, hips pressing softly against her. 

The heat of her, the way her breath blew hotly against the back of Claire’s neck, the way she had pressed herself into her, laughing and free had made Claire flush all over. That night, under the cover of darkness and her bedspread, Claire had traced her hands over her body, imagining Christina there with her, wondering what it would be like if she were to press herself against her now, press her into the mattress, brace herself above Claire with the forearms that Claire had more than noticed—flexed and muscular and delicate. 

Maybe—just maybe—Christina had noticed these moments, too; filed them away like little treasures to discover later. Maybe, she thought with a flush, maybe Christina touched herself, too, and wondered….

Claire licked her lips, eyes flicking back to Brad’s who was looking at her expectantly. She handed him the Cambro box full of dough. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go talk to her. Um, can you just—“

But she didn’t finish her instruction to him, already tugging at her apron strings and wiping her hands on the dish towel, mind whirring and wondering. 

When she pulled open the door to the walk-in, it was to find Christina huddled in the corner, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, eyes focused on the wooden toy in front of her, the disks swinging off axis. 

The noise of Claire walking in distracted her, though, and the disks all swung out of order. The look of annoyance fell from her face immediately as she saw Claire standing in the walk-in with her. Her face lit up. “Claire!”

Claire smiled softly at her, arms crossed over her chest for a little bit of warmth. “Brad sent me in as reinforcements. Said you won’t get out of here and Gaby has an order to receive.”

Christina frowned, eyeing the toy in her hand. “Can’t I have five more minutes,” she whined. “I _almost_ have it. I just can’t figure out how the hell you do it so quickly. I watched that video I took of you yesterday like, a hundred times.”

Claire bit her lip, wondering if there was something more to Christina watching the video of her over and over again last night. That word again— _girlfriend—_ rang in her ears and she stepped forward, rubbing her hands over her arms.

“God, it’s so cold. Chris, why are you even in here? The toy is portable you know,” she teased, eyes tracking Christina’s grip on the toy. The sight of her long, lean fingers wrapped around the length of the toy made her lick her lips. Her mind was about to take a vacation in the gutter between the shape of the toy, the sight of Christina’s fingers, and where her imagination was taking her….

Christina grinned at her conspiratorially, leaning in close like she was letting Claire in on a secret. “Morocco still hasn’t figured out the _point_ of this game and I’m kind of enjoying him walking around thinking we’re all playing with some weird sex toy.” 

Claire laughed at that, surprised. She tucked her hair behind her ear, shaking her head. Christina’s wicked, playful streak was sometimes hidden from the rest of the crew, but she liked that she knew this side of her. 

“Besides,” Christina continued, eyes flicking back to the puzzle. “I don’t want anyone to pick up on the Saffitz technique I’m perfecting here. It’s _something_ about your wrist, I know it.”

“Here, let me show you.”

Heart pounding, Claire slipped behind Christina, her arms mirroring Christina’s, hands covering hers. She had to push up on her tiptoes to hook her chin over the other woman’s shoulder. In her arms, Christina had gone still and stiff. The walk-in was cold enough that you could see your breath, but the puffs of condensed air coming from Christina was slow and uneven, like she was struggling to control her breathing. 

“You’re right,” Claire said, voice low and husky. It seemed like from the moment Brad had connected the dots in front of her face, connected the words _Christina_ to _girlfriend_ to _checks out your ass_ , it seemed that she had been missing the obvious in front of her face for months—the missing, secret ingredient in big, bold letters on the back of the bag. She traced the pads of her fingertips over Christina’s fingers to trace the jut of her wrist bone. “It’s all in the wrist. You keep your wrist in line with your elbow.”

She twisted her head as her hand trailed down the length of her forearm, cupping her elbow. Like this, she could feel all of Christina pressed against her softly, all of her lean lines and gentle curves fitting nicely, complimentary to Claire’s own body. Her knuckles brushed Christina’s ribs, grazing the side of her breast and there was no mistaking the gentle, shuddering exhale of Christina, the condensed cold air giving her away.

“Keep your eyes on the puzzle,” Claire murmured, lips just brushing the side of Christina’s neck. “And if you keep your wrist straight and your elbow in line and your eyes on the prize, it should all come together.”

But the puzzle in Christina’s hand wasn’t sliding into place, it was wobbling precariously. Claire hid her pleased, smug grin into the curve of Christina’s shoulder. “You’re not focusing, Chris,” she teased. “What happened to the Saffitz technique you were perfecting?”

Christina sighed, head tilting to the side as Claire’s lips pressed softly, tentatively to the side of her neck more surely this time. “Claire,” she breathed out. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you complete this puzzle.” This time she tightened her hand on Christina’s elbow, tugged the other woman back against her more firmly, nuzzled her nose across her shoulders, lips ghosting over her shirt, seeking the heat of her skin beneath. “Brad said something to me before he sent me in,” Claire whispered, fingertips slipping from Christina’s hands and elbow to settle on her hips, stroking at the hem of Christina’s shirt and at the thin strip of skin beneath. 

“W-What did he say? Brad says a lot of shit.”

Claire hummed and returned her attention to Christina’s neck, tongue flicking out as she kissed the pulse point pounding under her skin. “He said you and I have been dating and we didn’t even know it.”

“Oh?”

“Mmmhmm,” Claire answered, tugging at her hips and turning Christina in her arms so they were face to face. To her delight, Christina looked _wrecked,_ eyes unfocused, cheeks flushed darkly, breath coming in sharp, shallow pants. Claire tilted her face up, watched as Christina’s eyes dropped to her mouth, dropped the puzzle in her hand onto the spare table beside them, and reach for Claire with shaky, trembling hands. 

“He also said you check out my ass.”

Christina nods, looking defiant. “Not my fault,” she mutters. “You’re the one walking around looking, y’know, like you.”

Claire beams at that, slides her palms over the front of Christina’s blouse, detouring to play with the buttons slightly, before cupping her face gently. “I like that you were checking my ass out,” she confesses shyly, eyes meeting hers. “I—I wanted you to. I think I’ve wanted us to be dating, too. If—If that’s what you want?”

Christina stares at her like she can’t believe her good luck, like she can’t believe she’s awake right now. Claire has a moment of panic in which her confidence fails her, when she wonders if she should tell Christina how much she cares for her, that she wants to know if these feelings of _heat_ and _want_ when she thinks of Christina’s mouth on hers, her hands taking her apart and putting her back together again, if they’re all in her head or if they’d combust if they ever found themselves tangled together in her sheets. 

But Christina doesn’t seem to need those reassurances and she grips Claire’s hips and with one, sure tug, hauls Claire against her, tilting her head back as she presses her mouth to hers tenderly, softly, searching. 

Claire feels every inch of her skin light up at the touch, like a puzzle piece sliding into place, a sensation she’s been searching for for so long now finally here in the shape of Christina Chaey. 

Christina’s lips are warm and dry and chapped and Claire licks tentatively at the seam of her mouth, silently asking for more. The action seems to break something in Christina who moans softly into the kiss, shoves her fingers into Claire’s hair and anchors their mouths together, tongues twisting and entwining. Claire shakes at the sensations of Christina’s tongue stroking over hers, stroking over the roof of her mouth and of her teeth grazing her bottom lip, nipping and soothing. 

She feels out of control and needy and she can’t believe she waited _this long_ to feel Christina’s lips on hers, hands sliding into the back pocket of her jeans like Christina has been waiting to do this just as long as Claire, like she has her own set of fantasies and wants to explore.

The thought fans the flames coiling and flickering low in her belly and she surges up into the kiss, pushing up onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Christina’s shoulders, fingernails scratching at her scalp as she buries her hands in her hair. 

“Claire, you got Christina out yet—oh _Jesus, Claire._ ” 

They break apart at the sound of Brad Leone’s incredulous voice and his silhouette in the walk-in, hands on his hips and looking simultaneously bemused and annoyed. 

“You guys, seriously, you have to get the fuck out. Order’s here and Gaby needs to get in here. I think the celery has seen quite enough of whatever you two have gotten up to in here.”

Claire and Christina guiltily eye the bunch of celery hanging limply out from the basket on the walk-in shelving unit that they’re currently pressed again and Claire slides her hand down Christina’s body, tangling their hands together. 

“We were just leaving,” she informs him tersely, embarrassed and overwhelmed at the events of the last fifteen minutes. “Chris, grab the toy and we’ll go practice, um, elsewhere.”

Christina nods, grabs the puzzle, squeezes Claire’s hand and follows her out the walk-in. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, _practice._ Sure that’s what you’re gonna do. Jesus, just don’t go breakin’ no more HR rules, k, Saffitz?” Brad calls out after them, grinning, ribbing his friends. 

Claire turns on her heel, looking sweet but deceptively deadly. “Brad, remember that I know every single one of the HR rules that _you’ve_ broken.”

The color drains from Brad’s face and he hastily shoos them out the walk-in. “Right, right, hear ya loud and clear. Uh, you and Chaey go have fun, uh, practicin’. Not a word from me.”

(Later, as they escape from the test kitchen early, wooden toy in hand and grabbing the earliest subway back to Claire’s apartment to _practice_ , Christina kisses Claire softly, nuzzles at her temple, and grins evilly. “Okay, spill on Leone.”)

(It turns out, the Saffitz technique as practiced by Christina Chaey involves Claire rutting against her taut thigh, head thrown back, as Christina slides her fingers over her body, slipping inside of her, rubbing against her. Claire Saffitz is a puzzle that she can crack, knows how to slide each of her disks into place to make her whole.Christina kisses Claire’s gasps from her mouth, curls her fingers inside of her and presses her thumb against Claire’s clit as she shatters around Christina’s fingers. This particular brand of Saffitz puzzle solving is only for her, she decides.)


End file.
